The Turmoils of Legolas Greenleaf
by Suddenly and Deliberately
Summary: WHO will save him? WILL they get there in time to rescue Legolas from his problems? SHALL he survive? We shall see...


Legolas pranced happily through his lovely home, aka Mirkwood. He frequently looked downward, admiring his "attractive" elvish leggings. He had made them HIMSELF!!!!! (They were actually a greyish-green shade, with various stitches in random places. One leg of them was far too long for the elven beauty, and had to be rolled up about six inches, and the other was far too short. It was about halfway down Legolas' leg.) He sang his favorite song as he leaped about; it had only taken him 2000 years to perfect. "There was an Elven-maid of old, her name was Thranduilllll... no, wait! that wasn't her name!" He sat down upon a rotting log in agony, sobbing his pretty blue eyes out. "THAT's right!" he proclaimed in a high, squeaking, cracking voice. "Her name was ELROND... or was it Arwen? No, no- that's not right! Finduilas? Estel? AHGH! Let's just call her Legolas." Rather satisfied with this ultimatum, the elven prince smiled to himself for at least seven long minutes. He then sprang up again and said to himself, "Now what was my name again? Father is going to be HIGHLY displeased with me if I forget AGAIN!" He pondered this puzzler for another seven minutes, but this time, instead of perching upon a rotting log, he simply threw his frame down upon the weed-choked "royal path" that ran through Mirkwood. "Ah yes!" he exclaimed when he finally dragged himself upright again. "My name is Figwit!" Legolas-aka Figwit- said his new alias over and over again, whilst "sprinting" towards his elven home. He would have covered the half mile in about two hours- ah yes, the legendary speed of elves!- if, alas, he had not discovered... "A DIVERSION!!!!" screamed Legolas girlishly. There, in the middle of his "royal path," stood a half- centimeter high rock. "Alas, alas! AIIIII! AIIIIII" shrieked the elf. "WhatEVER shall I do!?" He intuitively decided that the best choice to decide upon, given the "extremely risky and dangerous circumstances" was to take another path. However, this would have been somewhat of a problem for even the greatest elves in Mirkwood, so obviously it was next to impossible for "Figwit." Mirkwood, was, in short, a complete unnatural disaster. On either side of the "royal path" that had, after many, many years of planning, been contrived by "the great star of the northeast," as he liked to call himself, King Thranduil, was a heap of undergrowth, overgrowth, and dead shrubberies. Along with this was the spider problem, which was still under discussion at the Grand Elf Council of Mirkwood. This discussion had been going on for six months already, and so far the elves and their king had decided that exterminating all of the elves in Mirkwood, so that the spiders would not bother them anymore, was definitely not an option. Legolas was still shocked that it had taken such a short amount of time to decide upon this. The brilliant elven prince thus ran full speed for the thick wall of shrubbery, and simply crashed into and through it. He was now suspended in a huge clump of the nasty shrubbery, and began shrieking. The House of Thranduil (one half mile away, as stated before) was at that time being lived in by the great Thranduil himself. He heard the shrieking of an elf, and sprang up from his leaf-encrusted throne. "Fetch me my slaves!" he screamed, his shrieks *almost* equalling those of his estranged son. When his "slaves" came to his side (they were actually his rather skillful guards, but had given up requesting to be addressed as such) and gave him the usual pitying look they bestowed upon their king, he yelled at them to go and fetch the Lady Galadriel, who, though Thranduil hadn't been expecting her to visit Mirkwood for at least another month, was obviously very close to his "Royal House" and in some sort of dilemma. The guards rolled their elvish eyes, dotted their elvish i's with small hearts and curlicues, and sprinted out of the Royal House. They easily reached their prince, who was moaning and shrieking like a tortured wildebeest. "IT'S GOT ME! IT'S GOT MEEEEEEEE!!" shrieked Thranduil's son. There was an excruciatingly small (and dead) spider about a yard away from the elvish prince, and it was heading in the exact opposite direction than that in which Legolas was presently entangled. 


End file.
